


A Blogger's Charm

by serialshipper



Category: Sherlock (TV), johnlock - Fandom
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 03:26:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2907569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serialshipper/pseuds/serialshipper





	1. The Call

The call was unexpected. The voice on the other end was frantic, "Sherlock! It's Mary! She's gone into preterm labor! This isn't supposed to happen yet! Oh God I hope the baby's alright..." The Doctor's voice was trailing off. His attention diverted back to his pregnant wife, "It'll be alright sweetheart, just breathe. We're almost there." Sherlock cleared his throat, and John suddenly remembered he had the detective on the phone, and continued. "We are on our way to St. Bart's. Please... I need you."

That was all Sherlock needed to hear. He was up in an instant, sliding into his coat and tightening his scarf around his slender neck as he rush down the stairs. Mrs. Hudson, hearing the commotion, poked her head out of her door to ask what was the matter. "It's John. Mary went into labor."  
"But she isn't due for another month! What happened?" Questioned Mrs. Hudson.

"I've not been given details yet. John only just called me down."

"Oh dear. Tell him if he needs anything to give me a ring and I'll be right down!" replied the Landlady, her voice frightened and small. Sherlock just nodded curtly and continued out the door. 

On the cab ride to the hospital, he placed a call to Mycroft, "I need your assistance in ensuring the best physicians are with Mary and the Fetus. Mary has gone into labor four weeks early and it will need only the best." 

"Sherlock, when will you stop calling the baby a 'fetus' and 'it'?" Hearing only agitated silence on the other end Mycroft continued, his tone muted, "Of course I will call in some favors. Please, keep me posted on her progress. And Sherlock, just remember. While babies may not be your thing, John has been anxiously awaiting this day. Just try to act like a human being and be happy for him."  
Sherlock grunted and ended the call.

As the car arrived at St. Barts, the detective stepped out of the cab, and hurriedly paid the cabbie. He was too concerned to care about proper tipping procedures, and threw a few extra notes in the window. He heard the driver yell, "Hey thanks man!" as he ran to the entrance. Glancing around for just a moment, he spotted the Nurse's Station and quickened his pace, walking up to the counter. To Sherlock's frustration, the Nurse was on the phone and held up a finger as Sherlock started to talk. In a moments time she placed the receiver on the cradle and asked, "How can I help you, sir?" Just as Sherlock was about to question the location of the Watson's room he heard footsteps down the hall matching John's distinct worried pace. "Never mind, thanks."


	2. The Delivery

"John." Sherlock said calmly as he advanced on his blogger. 

"Oh Sherlock!" John cried as his friend came into view. He crossed the distance between them and enveloped the detective in a crushing embrace, sobbing. Sherlock's body went rigid, his heart beating frantically. He stood as a statue, letting John hold on to him as long as he needed, and inhaling the familiar scent of John that 221B now lacked. "They've taken Mary back to surgery. Her water broke and the baby is breech. His heart rate is accelerating. They're giving her an emergency C-section. I'm not.. I'm not allowed back with her. I feel so helpless!"

Sherlock reached up a hand and stiffly patted John's back. Even with his heart screaming John's name, such intimacy was alien. "How long has she been back?"

"Roughly ten minutes, Jesus.... Jesus.... It feels like ages," the doctor was nervously rubbing his face. "Sod this! I'm finding out what's going on." He stopped a nurse passing by and asked how Mary and the baby were doing. "As far as I know things are going well, but we will know more in a moment." 

John resigned himself to a chair in the waiting room, apprehensively bouncing his legs on the balls of his feet, his forehead in his palms. Some minutes later, John heard footsteps coming toward him and glanced up. Sherlock was sitting across the room, tapping away on his phone, pretending to be busy but peering over the screen at John periodically. When doing so, he noticed John finally looking up from the floor, and followed his gaze to the corridor and the man in the scrubs coming toward them. The former soldier jumped to attention, awaiting the words soon to come out of the nurse's mouth.   
"Mother and baby are both doing well. There was a bit of blood loss from Mary, but it's under control. Your son has been taken to the nursery for his Apgar test and the doctor is stitching your wife up. You should be able to see them both very soon!"

"My son." The doctor's face paled, and he fell back into his chair with a thump. "I've been so caught up worrying about the health and safety of Mary and the baby, I'd not stopped to process that this is MY baby. My son...." Staring at nothing, John sat silent, unmoving, processing what has just happened when the nurse, who he didn't realize had left, returned to lead him to the recovery room where his wife and child awaited. "Sherlock..." he looked over pleading with his eyes for Sherlock to come with him. 

"Is it against policy for a guest to accompany the new father to the room?"  
"Not at all, sir. You're welcome to come in." John thanked the nurse and followed him down the brightly lit hallway to a door left slightly ajar. "Here you are, sir. Room 221, your wife's bed is on side B. She will be moved to a private room in a couple of hours, when one becomes available. If you need anything there is a call button on the side of the bed......" He continued on but John wasn't listening. He was staring at the curtain separating him from his new family, a million thoughts running through his mind. "Yes, of course. Thank you." He heard Sherlock's deep voice, and felt his thin fingers pressing at his back to guide him into the room. Still in shock, he turned to Sherlock, "I really appreciate you coming with me. This is a big moment in my life, and I couldn't imagine you not being a part of it." 

"I wouldn't be anywhere else, John." Sherlock nodded and John, again, felt the slight pressure of the detective's hand on his back.

They crossed the room and pulled back the curtain. There lay a pale faced Mary, likely from the blood loss she'd suffered, holding a the most beautiful thing John had ever laid eyes upon. Eyes closed, sleeping peacefully on his mother's chest, was his little yellow haired son.


	3. The Name

Sherlock stood by as he watched John carefully from the corner of his eye. This intense surge of jealousy was irrational and intolerable. He willed himself, yet again, to be happy for John, but was struggling to do so.

"Oh my god.. Have you ever seen anything so perfect?" John's voice was wavering and soft. For a moment, Sherlock let himself imagine John was talking about him, not this... pink thing. The small smile on his face was soon wiped clean as John moved away from him and toward Mary and the... Infant. He watched as John gently brushed a lock of blonde hair aside and kissed Mary's forehead. He stood leaning over her, resting his cheek against her head, both staring down at the sleeping infant, for a few minutes, basking in the joy of his newly expanded family, until Sherlock cleared his throat.

"I think I'll take my leave. I am in the middle of a case, and need to return to my research." Nodding at the Watsons, he turned to start across the room when John's voice rang out, "Wait! Don't you want to know his name?"

"Name?" Sherlock was confused for a brief period, then recalled the infant. This was going to take some time to get used to.

"Yes Sherlock, his name. That's what people do. Name their children. It helps keep track of who is who." John's tone sarcastic.

"Yes, of course. Apologies, my mind is occupied." sighed the detective.

"Arthur Sherlock Watson," John's smile shone through in his words. 

Sherlock was at a loss for words, which was strange. Mouth gaping, he stood motionless, guttural noises the only sound escaping him as he searched for the words to describe this emotion of which he was suddenly aware. Excitement? Joy? Fear? Anxiety? Whatever the cause, there was a knot twisting up in his stomach. He suddenly felt smothered and needed to breathe. Nodding sharply, Sherlock disappeared from the room quickly and made his way outside.

Immediately as he stepped out the door, Sherlock searched his coat pocket for his stash of cigarettes he kept in case of emergency. As he struck the match and, in cupped hands, brought it up toward his mouth, a familiar voice rang out. "Oh, Sherlock dear, you know you're not allowed to smoke just outside the doors!" Mrs. Hudson approached, a worried look on her face. "Why do you have those dreadful things anyway? Did something happen?"

"Mary and the Infant are both sound." Sherlock turned his head and exhaled the smoke away from Mrs. Hudson. "They're up stairs in room 221. John would be pleased you came to visit, and... What is that?"

"I brought a thermos of Raspberry leaf tea for Mary. It's supposed to help balance postpartum hormones and promote breast milk supply. I'm not sure how it tastes.... Oh, you never gave me an answer about why you were smoking Sherlock."

"The name..." he muttered as he walked away, a cloud of smoke trailing after him.


End file.
